Fighting a Love War
by Assemble-the-Avengers
Summary: Clarke caught the fleeting glimmer of a tear falling from his dark eyes and before she could regret it, was reaching out and closing her hand around his vibrating fingers.
1. I drive you crazy

_It was Charlotte he saw first; her small body half floating in the water, other half broken on the rocks, staining her gold hair with crimson blood. He was alone, staring down at the churning water below, screaming the little girl's name until Charlotte disappeared into the black waves._

_His fault. _

_As he turned away from the vision of the twelve year olds blood on the rocks, he was met almost immediately with the face of Jaha's unforgiving and cold eyes and the blood seeping from his gut. As always, a gun materialized in the chancellor's hand and was instantly aimed at Bellamy's forehead. _

_"__You tried to kill me." His deep voice rumbled. _

_"__I know." The younger man whispered brokenly. _

_"__And you believe you deserve a fate as easy as death?" it was more of a statement rather than a question. _

_"__No." he replied painfully. _

_"__You shot me to protect your sister." Jaha accused. That reminder caused Bellamy to straighten up slightly. That was the one thing he would never regret about his crimes. The soldier nodded once. "That makes this her fault." Jaha snarled. Except it wasn't his voice. Not anymore. Now it was raspy, lower, more menacing then should have been possible. _

_Then Octavia appeared, bleeding, bruised, crying. It was her smaller self. The Octavia that had relied on Bellamy for everything back on the Ark. The Octavia that he had given up his entire childhood for. And Jaha was pointing a gun at her. _

_He was stuck to the ground, frozen in place, left to watch as the chancellor he had attempted to assassinate pulled the trigger on his baby sister. Octavia's body jerked and fell to floor with him screaming her name. _

Bellamy Blake shot up in his makeshift bed with the remnants of his sister's name dying on his lips. His shaking hands came up to his face and it was then that he realized, shamefully, that he was crying. The harder he tried to even his breathing, the more suffocating his tent seemed to be until he was drowning, gasping for air that wouldn't come no matter how hard he tried.

Without consciously making the decision, Bellamy bolted from his tent, tripping on the flap that functioned as a door. He stumbled through the camp, nearly crashing into the gate, fumbling to push it open with trembling hands. He slipped between the smallest opening that was possible for him to fit through and slumped against a tree. Ignoring the pain that was the bark grating against his skin, Bellamy slid to the ground, staring straight ahead, absently noting that he could _breathe. _

"Bellamy?" a surprised voice called out through the dark. Bellamy's head snapped up and he squinted into the dark, barely making out the shape of another person sitting across from him against the wall. He stiffened, straightening up against the tree.

"What do you think you're doing out here alone, Princess? Unarmed nonetheless." Bellamy scowled, needing to draw attention away from his weakness.

"I don't think that's any of your business is it?" Clarke replied tiredly.

"It is when our only medic is being so careless with her life." He shot back angrily.

Clarke's eyebrows knitted together when she caught the slight shake in his voice. It was enough to get her on her feet and making her way closer to him, slowly. Eyes roved his body for any hints as to what had Bellamy Blake unsettled. Sweat soaked hair, tear stained face, red rimmed eyes that she could barely make out in the dark, and shaking hands that were clasped together between his bent knees. She'd only seen him like this once before. The blonde exhaled slowly and sat down beside him, leaning back against the tree trunk.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, careful to avoid looking at him.

"With you? I don't think so Princess." The usual scorn in his voice wasn't there. His voice was flat, monotone, full of pain. Clarke pursed her lips and glanced at his still shaking hands in her peripheral vision. "You never answered my question." He muttered lowly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"And you didn't answer mine." She replied simply. He grunted in acknowledgment and they fell silent for a few moments.

"Octavia." He whispered into the silence. Clarke's eyes shot open and she worked to stay still. Looking at him would silence him. And for whatever reason, Clarke wanted him to talk. "My…mistakes always come back to her and get _her _hurt. Or killed." He nearly choked on the words. Clarke could feel the tremors starting to make their way up his arms. "And Charlotte." He breathed, laughing darkly under his breathe. "I might as well have killed her myself. Her only mistake was believing in _me." _Clarke caught the fleeting glimmer of a tear falling from his dark eyes and before she could regret it, was reaching out and closing her hand around his vibrating fingers.

When he didn't pull away, she knew she'd made the right choice.

He was quiet after that, barely even moving other than to twist his hand in Clarke's and lace their fingers together. If the teenage girl was surprised, she didn't show it.

It was Clarke who broke the second silence, gritting her teeth and doing her best not to crush Bellamy's hand.

"Everyone's counting on me to save everyone, fix every person who gets themselves hurt. One time, I'm not going to be able to save someone and then…" she stopped mid-sentence and gasped in a deep breath. Bellamy twisted his head and looked at Clarke, at her tortured expression and the dark purple half circles under her eyes, suddenly realizing just how much pressure they – he – put on her.

She was responsible for the lives of the ninety some people that were left. That was a lot to put on a seventeen year olds shoulders.

And then she's shaking and he's wanting to pull her closer. And that scares him.

Instead, he squeezed her hand lightly and looked up at the leaves above them, absentmindedly keeping watch for Grounders. Both of their shaking slowly tapered off, leaving them both exhausted.

Clarke's head lolled to the side not much later, landing softly on Bellamy's shoulder. He tensed instinctively but slowly forced himself to relax, telling himself that his taking great care to make sure she's comfortable was merely a strategic move; he can't have the one medically trained person in his camp sick from exhaustion.

After an hour of sitting stiffly against the tree, with Clarke sleeping like the dead, Bellamy's constant paranoia of every snapping twig, every rustling leaf was starting to make him frustrated. _And tired. _

Bellamy glanced ephemerally at the blonde head of hair on his shoulder and made the, of course strategic, decision to not wake her up. What good was a sick healer? He twisted quickly so that he didn't jostle her too much, watching her head roll so that her temple was leaning against his clavicle before slipping his other arm behind her legs and lifting her effortlessly.

Her eyelids puckered and he paused until she stilled again.

As Bellamy entered camp, he realized that he didn't know where she'd been spending her nights on the Ground. And then he recognized that she must've been spending every night in the Drop Ship, taking care of every sick patient that stepped on board.

Without really thinking twice about it, Bellamy turned on his heel and started towards his own tent. It was late and he was tired. He didn't feel like dealing with the issue of Clarke's sleeping arrangements tonight. So instead, the man ducked into his own tent and gently laid her down on the makeshift bed he usually slept on before falling back into the chair he had torn out of the drop ship.

"Bellamy," he heard her mumble quietly. He tensed and waited for her eyes to open.

Only they didn't. They stayed closed. And Bellamy closed his eyes, wondering absently if she were dreaming of him.

Clarke woke up to an eyeful of leg. She jerked back, only to fall off something with a light thump. She looked up to see Bellamy's amused and slightly irritated gaze boring into her.

Nightmare. The forest. Bellamy. He must've carried her.

"And I just woke you up…" she finished in aggravation, muttering under her breath.

"Don't worry about it Princess. I wouldn't have expected any less from an elite." He smirked at her, raising his arms above his head and stretching as much as the low hanging ceiling would allow.

Clarke scowled and picked herself up, brushing imagined dirt off her pants just to keep busy. She looked up and suddenly realized he had given her his bed whilst he slept in an undoubtedly uncomfortable chair.

"We need to talk about food supply. We're running low and no one wants to go out because of the weather." She was all business now.

"What do you suggest Princess?" he asked, looking far too relaxed in his makeshift chair. Clarke crossed her arms and growled in exasperation when that brought Bellamy's attention to something a little lower than her eyes.

"My eyes, Bellamy, are up here." She hissed, dropping her arms to her side. Bellamy quirked an eyebrow, eyes flitting upwards within a few seconds.

"My bad." He drawled, waving her on.

"Well going. Today given that this is the best weather we've had in a while." She said simply, stuffing her hands in her back pockets. Bellamy blinked at her before standing up with a murderous look on his face.

"Like hell, you are!" he shouted angrily. Clarke, to her credit, hardly flinched. He'd never laid a hand on her and she trusted him not to even now. "It's fifteen degrees out there, Griffin! There's a _reason _no one will go out to hunt. It's suicide!" He looked away and pushed his hair back furiously. "Clarke, you won't last five minutes on your own." He said breathily. Clarke met his eyes unwaveringly.

"We are going to starve Bellamy." She said firmly. Bellamy held her challenging gaze for a little while longer before looking away and laughing under his breath.

"Brave Princess." He said, lips quirking at the edges into something of a smile. "I'm coming with you." He said after a moment. Clarke's eyes widened.

"What? No! You can't! Who are you going to leave in charge, huh? Miller?" she threw her hands up.

"Yes." He said seriously. "And Monty. Raven can handle the simple medicinal issues, can't she?" he put his hands in his own pockets and regards her with such a casual look that it infuriates her even further.

They're still engaged in a heated staring match when Octavia burst through the tent opening.

"Bell, we've got another one, and I can't find… Clarke!" Octavia panted. "I've got him wrapped up and Raven's trying to keep his body temp up but…" she spoke quickly. Clarke leapt over the bed and raced out after Octavia, glancing back at Bellamy.

"Be at the gate in half an hour or I'm leaving without you." She warned, bolting into the Drop Ship to tend to another hypothermic patient.

**PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO CONTINUE. I'M NOT SURE HOW IN CHARACTER THEY ARE SO PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. **


	2. I've got your back

Clarke jogged towards the gate, with her pack slung over her shoulder. As she neared the fence, she noticed Bellamy, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at Clarke.

"You're late Princess." Bellamy arched an eyebrow. Clarke narrowed her eyes and brushed past him.

"I'm sorry. I'll just let him die next time." She scowled. Bellamy's expression softened slightly before he followed her outside the gate. He waved at the guards over his shoulder and waited to pick up the pace until he was sure they were closing the gate.

Clarke zipped her black jacket up to her throat, warding off the cold and praying it wouldn't start to snow any harder than it already was. Even now, it was the warmest it had been in a few days. Bellamy walked a little faster until he fell into step beside her.

He didn't miss the way she gravitated towards him and his warmth, undoubtedly subconsciously. He wasn't above admitting to himself that he was cold and therefore didn't exactly mind her close proximity.

"You have a place in mind, Princess?" he asked through tight lips. Clarke nodded stiffly and stepped over a fallen, iced over log.

"The lake maybe." She sighed, going slightly cross eyed to watch her breath turn white in the air before her.

"The lake's frozen over." Bellamy shook his head, hiking his pack higher on his shoulder. Clarke stopped in front of him so suddenly that he nearly skidded in the icy dirt.

"Well than what, O Great King, did you have in mind?" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. Bellamy's expression darkened as her voice echoed and he lunged forward, clapping a hand over her mouth and backing her into a tree. Clarke stayed still while watching Bellamy's eyes flit around in paranoia.

It wasn't until a few minutes after her echoing voice had died out that he released her and took a slight step back.

"Are you insane? If you don't learn to keep it down _Princess _we will be dead before nightfall." He hissed. Clarke gritted her teeth and nodded once. "As for whether or not I have a plan, I do, in fact, have an idea." He answered, voice slightly strained between the attempt at whispering and the cold seeping into his skin.

"Feel free to share with the class." Clarke sighed in frustration, glancing back and forth and over her shoulder.

"Few weeks ago, found a few rundown buildings maybe a mile and a half north of the lake." He nodded behind her.

"Think there's anything left?" Clarke asked, cocking her head to the side. Bellamy shrugged.

"Worth a shot." He said shortly. Clarke nodded once in agreement and motioned for him to lead the way, slipping her hand around the hilt of the knife in her back pocket as she followed him. "We can maybe make it there by dark if we pick up the pace. No way we can get back to camp tonight."

Clarke nodded in acceptance and rubbed her arms through her jacket. Bellamy glanced back at her over his shoulder and took in her pale lips and stark white skin. He had _told _her this was a bad idea.

Then again, when had the princess ever listened to him. Bellamy just hoped this time her stubbornness didn't cost the camp their leader.

Or him his princess.

Bellamy gritted his teeth in realization of what exactly he had just _thought _and promptly refused to think about the implication of it. Distraction would not help either of them right now.

He looked at Clarke again, who was slowly starting to fall behind him. Slowing his pace, Bellamy looked her up and down, narrowing his eyes while subconsciously noting that he was starting to shiver as well; her blonde hair was flat and dark with the melted snow, her lips faintly blue, hands bright red.

It was only because he was studying her so intently that he was able to catch her when she stumbled on the perfectly flat, snow coated ground they were treading across.

"I'm fine." She mumbled, nearly incoherent. Bellamy tightened his grip on her waist and watched her cautiously.

"Clarke…" he hedged lowly, absently noting that he was starting to shiver as well.

"I am fine." She repeated, words starting to slur a little bit. "We 'eed to keep goin." She muttered quietly. Bellamy glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky and the snow that was starting to fall heavier by the minute and sighed in resignation.

He had been in the room while Clarke had been treating Octavia's case of hypothermia and he had taken careful mental notes of every symptom and diagnostic test. At that point, he was already thoroughly positive Clarke was suffering from the same thing but as he raised his fingers to check her pulse, the slow beating he felt there confirmed his suspicions.

Clarke moaned softly and leaned into his hand, needing that warmth radiating from his skin. Seconds later, Bellamy heard Clarke curse under her breath and he knew she'd belatedly realized what he already had.

"Clarke, we've got to get out of this snow for the night. At this rate, we're both going to freeze to death before we reach the lake." He said just low enough for her to hear over the storming weather. She nodded just slightly, doubling a little under the onslaught of shivering that started up again when a gust of wind blew over them.

She could feel Bellamy's arm shivering around her waist and she folded her own over top of it. His shuddering slowed slightly as he glanced around for any form of shelter. His eyes landed on something that could hardly even be considered a cave. It was more of a stone overhang that would barely shield them from anything not to mention the wind.

But that small cave would have to work because there was no other form of shelter for miles. But as Bellamy glanced down at the doubled and shrinking form of the usually strong Clarke Griffin, he wondered if it would matter either way. The twenty two year old swung Clarke into his arms, ducked his head and ran for the rock.

Once he reached it, and was now full on shivering against the cold himself, Bellamy set Clarke down against the far wall and tapped her cheek to rouse her from the self-preservation induced sleep she'd slipped into.

As soon as she was semiconscious, Bellamy unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of his shirt, shivering violently against yet another gust of wind even as he fumbled with the zipper on Clarke's soaked jacket.

She didn't fight him as he pulled her shirt off of her body, didn't even fight him when he pulled her into his lap, holding her flush against his chest. She gasped at the heat and pressed herself closer to his body until her hands were trapped against his abs between her bare stomach and his.

It was Bellamy's turn to gasp against the shock of just how cold her fingers really were against his skin. His own hands dug into her freezing back a little harder in response.

"Careful." He hissed, eyes narrowing in concern when some other unnaturally cold part of her anatomy touched the base of his neck. It took him a minute to realize that it was her lips that were so ice cold against his throat. She was shivering so forcefully in his arms that he was sure her body was going to shatter at any moment.

There wasn't much more he could do to protect her from the weather aside from turning them both so that she was between him and the wall. The former folded around her as best he could and tilted his cheek against the top of her soaking wet hair.

Clarke was so cold she _hurt. _The only thing making the cold even slightly bearable was the muscled figure wrapped around her. It was purely for survival reasons, she knew that and he knew that. But she could help but let her mind wander, even if it was solely for distraction purposes.

She could feel her stiff and frozen fingers curl into a fist over his perfectly sculpted abdomen, feeling each groove carved out by the muscle even under her numb fingers. At that small shift of hand placement, the tendons and muscles in Bellamy's body tightened noticeable and Clarke flattened her hand again, drawing her fingers together so that her cold wasn't touching as much of him. If she wasn't careful, he would become just as hypothermic as her.

"Stay awake, princess." She heard him mutter lowly, moments after she had let her eyes start to drift closed. Bellamy's body jerked with a sudden chill of cold that washed over him and Clarke slowly slid her hands around his torso until they were spread out over his back. Even her skin was warm against his freezing back that she suddenly realized was completely exposed to the wind and snow.

A growl rumbled in his chest at that one selfless act and he shifted to try and coax her to put her hands back where they would stay warm.

"You're h-human too." She denied against the slowing pulse in his neck.

"Selfless princess." He muttered into her hair.

"You're gonna f-freeze." She said. Bellamy shrugged stiffly.

"I'm not the one who's hypothermic." He reminded her. "Besides, we can't have our doctor dying, now can we?"

The implication hung in the air in the little to nonexistent space left between them. _They need you more than they need me. _

"The-they need you t-too." She stammered through body wracking shivers. Clarke could feel Bellamy's smirk against the top of her head.

"They need you more." He replied calmly.

"Not true." She replied, voice a little more muffled as she shifted to press her nose against his neck as well. Bellamy jumped a little at the cold and grunted at her.

"I'm a killer, Clarke." He said seriously. "I'm a killer leading a camp full of sinners and criminals." He chuckled. "I'm a hypocritical leader. They need someone who can practice what they preach." He told her gently.

"I've k-k-killed." Her teeth chattered. "We all ha-ave. You're not a ba-bad guy, Bell." She stuttered; Bellamy noted that it wasn't as a nickname that she shortened his name, but simply the lack of ability to say it without biting her own tongue off. But then he was chuckling quietly at her naivety.

"I've shot people, tortured people, stolen… I got my mother floated, princess." He said dryly.

"Octavia." She said in way of justification, grip on him tightening shakily. "Mm." she moaned, pressing herself to him tighter in an attempt to ward off a new wave of excruciating cold.

"Not all of it." He whispered, leaning back slightly to expose more skin for her to draw warmth from. Part of the reason he had tortured that Grounder, was to get that begging and helpless look out of Clarke's eyes – to help her get what she needed to do what she needed to do. That had been for her.

He was weak when it came to women. Particularly Octavia, and now Clarke. It was a dangerous and worrying reality that he would do anything to keep them alive. That didn't stop the denial from reminding him that his keeping Clarke alive right now was an indirect act of keeping the camp alive.

"You aren't a m-murderer. Camp needs you. I need you. I c-couldn't run this godfors-saken place without you. So d-don't t-th-th…" she trailed off then and curled her fingers into his back, breathing harshly into his neck. Bellamy dragged her arms from around his back to his chest, cradling her a close as he could as she shook hard enough to make him shake too.

_I need you. _

**WHAT'D YOU THINK? TOO FAST? STILL IN CHARACTER? LET ME KNOW! **


	3. Though you hate me

**SORRY ITS SO SHORT. **

**I'M FOCUSING ON FINALS AND ALSO**

**STILL DYING FROM TONIGHTS EPISODE. **

**ANYWHO. HERE YOU GO. **

Clarke woke up first, Bellamy curled around her and shaking almost as violently as she was. It was then that she noticed his arms were bare around her, his tan skin nearly purplish. His jacket was wrapped around her shoulders and his shirt was a soaked mass of fabric to the side. In addition, his essentially naked back was to the opening of the cave where he would've been subjected to the unyielding weather.

It was still absolutely freezing but no longer snowing or raining.

As the blonde shifted in the embrace of the body around her, she looked up, only to meet the deep brown eyes of Bellamy Blake.

"Hey Princess." He mumbled weakly, burying his face in her neck where it was relatively warmer than the air around them.

"Bellamy," she scolded coldly. He lifted his head to look at her in wary confusion. She looked pointedly at his bare upper body in anger. Bellamy blinked sluggishly and smirked slightly.

"We made it through the night I see." He said dryly, slowly withdrawing his arms from around her. Clarke climbed out of his lap and sat down with her back against the rough rock wall.

The corners of Bellamy's eyes tightened as he looked down at his forearms, showcasing a grimace that was barely noticeable. Clarke glared at him and rocked forward onto her knees, grabbing his hands so that she could inspect his arms. Bellamy sighed as though it was a huge inconvenience and rolled his eyes toward the overhang.

Bleeding cuts crisscrossed across the top of his arm where they had been pinned against the wall by her body throughout the night.

"Give me my pack." She ordered. Bellamy arched an eyebrow but did as he was told and dropped her makeshift backpack on the ground beside her still slightly shivering form.

He watched Clarke sift through it until she came up with one of their crudely made flasks that usually carried water. Clarke untied the string from around the neck of it and gave Bellamy no warning before pouring its contents over his arms. Bellamy hissed through his teeth and instinctively tried to wrench his arms away from the moonshine. Clarke looked up at him with something that was almost apologetic before it vanished and the stream of alcohol slowed to a trickle.

She pulled a roll of canvas out of the bag and wasted no time winding it around his forearms, tying it off with steady hands despite the rest of her shivering body. He shook his stinging arms out and glanced at Clarke irritably, holding her gaze for another moment before he let his eyes roam elsewhere.

Clarke scowled and threw her hands up in exasperation before tugging his jacket tighter around her upper body that was only partially covered by her disgustingly dirty bra.

"I'm going to want that back, Princess." He said, mouth quirking upwards at the murderous and slightly embarrassed look on Clarke's face. The teasing half smile vanished when she started to take the jacket off. "Not now. Your shirt's still wet. Mine's dry enough. How do you feel?" his tone was bordering business and honest concern.

"Fine. We need to get moving if we're going to make it to those ruins and back to the camp by nightfall." She said, already standing and stuffing her admittedly half frozen shirt into the pack containing the medical supplies she had brought.

"No, we need to get moving towards home. Not in the opposite direction." Bellamy said sternly, grabbing her upper arm and staring her dead in the eyes.

"No one's forcing you to follow me, Bellamy." She replied coldly, pulling her arm out of his grasp and turning to walk out of the cave. She could hear him on her heels but refused to turn and acknowledge his presence.

It was infuriating enough how she couldn't ignore the way the jacket smelled so strongly like gunpowder, sweat, dirt, moss and something else that she couldn't quite name other than to recognize it as _Bellamy_. Not to mention how annoying it was that she _liked _that smell.

But then, he had to go and give her whiplash by being whoever he was pretending to be last night then turning right around and being the condescending ass she knew and loved. Still, he had saved her life, kept her from freezing to death and for that she at least owed him a thank you.

Bellamy nearly slammed into Clarke when she whirled around to face him, looking petulantly indecisive.

"Thanks." She said honestly, staring at him unwaveringly. Bellamy tried not to shift under the intensity of her gaze and was eventually drawn into the heated staring match so he no longer needed to think about standing his ground.

"Can't have our doctor dying now can we?" he repeated his words from the previous night.

Clarke's eyebrows furrowed at the slight pang of hurt that resonated in her at being reduced to an occupational advantage.

"I'm sorry about your arms." she continued steadily.

"They'll heal." He said flippantly.

"I'm sorry I got us into that situation in the first place." She added, holding his eyes challengingly.

"Like you said Princess, no one's forcing me." He responded easily.

"Why'd you come?" she blurted suddenly, causing Bellamy to take a short step away from her.

"Because you wouldn't have made it on your own." He said cautiously.

"You could've sent someone else with me." She challenged.

"I don't trust anyone else with you." He replied guardedly.

"But you'd leave Octavia?" Clarke shot back. Bellamy's forehead wrinkled.

"They know what happens if she gets hurt." Bellamy squared his shoulders and stood a little straighter. "The Grounders won't leave you alone on my say so. They would gut you and hang you above their fire place without a second's hesitation." He said lowly, voice taking on the slightly gravelly tone it did when he was getting upset. "And I don't trust anyone but me to make sure that doesn't happen." He growled, tilting his head until they were mere centimeters from each other.

It was almost at the same time that they realized just how close they were. Clarke's eyes dropped to his lips while Bellamy still studied her eyes.

He made the first move, lifting his hands and wrapping them around the back of her neck, under the curtain of blonde hair, shoulders shrugging upwards as he bent his head even further to slam his lips on hers. Clarke reflexively reached up and tangled his hair around her fingers, dragging him closer by the outgrown brown curls at the back of his head.

The kiss is different than the few she shared with Finn. Slower, more fervent, gentler but at the same time so rough and demanding, and so much like _him. _

Clarke pulled back first, gasping in the frozen air, eyes narrowing in confusion when she feels Bellamy's fingers brushing against her waist while fiddling with the zipper on his jacket that she's wearing.

Pulling her closer by a grip on the leather hem, he inclines his head to speak again and pulls the zipper up to her clavicle.

_ "__I don't trust anyone but me to make sure you're safe." _

**LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. **


End file.
